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I've been all over the place lately. At the beginning of the summer I was plowing through the Needles, Names, and Numbers drafts, ultima...

Sunday, April 30, 2017

Pet the Kitty

I can feel myself grow more and more socially
retarded with each rotation. This has been a terrible mistake. Jack is the only
one I know at this party, at least until Evan gets here. I don’t know if I’ve
said anything besides “Hey, I’m Harry, nice to meet you.” And “Who’s lighter is
this?” since we got here over an hour ago. I feel like I should be saying more
things, being normal, not being weird. But all I can do is laugh when everyone
else laughs and sip this empty beer uncomfortably.

Where
the fuck is Evan?!!?!

This beer was complimentary, and I don’t dare ask
for another. Most of us won’t turn 21 until next year, so alcohol is precious,
at least until everyone goes back to school. I thought about getting some
beforehand, but I didn’t want to spoil my appetite for tonight’s entrée: the
Kizzle. I don’t know what to expect.

“It’s a game changer.” Was the only way Evan could
describe it.

\I follow Keith back into his parents’ house and
mumble something about him being fucking loaded as I shut the back door. Jack
used to work with Keith and some of the other kids here, who all seem to go to
the same party school out west. We go back to the basement where a few other
strangers have shown up, but no sign of Evan.

Keith has new recording software to show Jack,
leaving me adrift in a sea of unnecessary social anxiety. I’m not blaming him,
I did sort of bring this on myself with all that god damn grass. I assume the
position and scroll through my Facebook feed over and over, keeping both ears
open for the sound of Evan and his Ketamine life-raft.

“Sirs?!!?!” A familiar voice calls downstairs.

YES!
YES! DOWN HERE! S-O-S! S-O-S!

Evan comes downstairs like the complete opposite of
me. He grabs hold of the room right away and starts shaking hands and kissing
babies. Behind him are his girlfriend Catherine and his buddy Greg, who I’ve
actually met and talked to before! Now that my brain’s bizarre demands have
been met, the hostages have been released, and all is right with the cosmos.

Evan serves a couple of people before finally
greeting Jack and I. He’s insanely charismatic, so much so that you can’t even
be irritated by it. Not in the drug dealer disingenuous kind of way, either.
You could walk in on him fucking your mother and an hour later you’ll be
drinking craft beer together, yucking it up like best friends. As he takes off
his backpack, Keith’s girlfriend approaches him with a beer.

“Yeah, I can be kind of a beer snob unless I’m
trying to get shitfaced, you know? I only drink like, the headies of beers.”

“Sorry our Rolling Rock isn’t to your standards,
sir.”

“I’ll let it slide this time, hahahaha…”

Evan’s the only guy that can say something like “the
headies of beers” and not sound like a douchebag. He looks around the basement
and thinks before putting his backpack back on.

“Where are we doing this?” Catherine asks him
anxiously.

“I don’t wanna get mobbed for this shit, you know
what I mean? Hmmm… What do you say we go outside for a board meeting, sirs?”
Evan suggests. He motions towards the basement stairs and we head up.

“So have you ever done this shit before?” I ask Greg.

“Yeah, I’ve done it a couple of times. It’s really
hard to describe, dude… It’s just… Different form anything I’ve done before.
Even like Acid and shit.” Greg replies.

“That’s what I’ve been hearing, sounds like a mind
fuck.” I say.

“You guys are the only ones I know that go on three
day acid benders, I think you can handle it.” Catherine reassures us.

FREE
AT LAST, FREE AT LAST, THANK GOD ALMIGHTY, WE’RE FREE AT LAST!!

The five of us cram into Greg’s car and Evan gets to
work. Greg pulls a heavily scratched copy of Creed’s Human Clay from the dashboard and hands it to Evan, who dumps a
small pile of powder onto it. Using his student ID, he chops the pile into five
portions that look more like bumps than lines.

“I think it’s only right that our new cadets go
first. Which one of you sirs would like to do the honors?” Evan asks.

I look over at Jack, who gives me a nod. I’m in the
middle seat and closer to Evan by default. I take a deep breath as I carefully
grab the CD and the straw. I’ve snorted a little bit of Molly and Adderall in
my time, but this ritual still feels kind of taboo to me. I take my bump in one
quick sniff, arching my head back as I pass the CD over to Jack. My eyes well
up with tears as my nostril burns. I fight through it, blocking my left nostril
and pulling the skin by my right one to the side. I take a few hard, painful,
snorts before it breaks through the mucus membrane and shit starts to feel weird…

“Yo, Harry…” Jack says between gags. I take the CD
from him and pass it to Catherine before zoning out again.

“Are you feeling it Mr. Krabs? Hahaha…” She says as she
straightens out the bumps and pulls her hair back. I feel like I’m blackout
drunk but somehow still in control. I watch Catherine do her bump like a god
damn champion. She shivers slightly, blinks away the tears, and gulps down the
drip like a shot of whiskey.

Oh
fuck, that’s right…

The
drip.

GULP!!

A slug made of mucus and street-grade cat
tranquilizer slides down the back of my throat without warning. It’s worse than
I expected, and Catherine seems to pick up on it. I cover my mouth as she opens
her door and gets out of the car.

“Probably shoulda warned you, K drips are horrible.”
She says.

I gulp down another slug and suppress the revolt in
my stomach. I take a deep breath and my body begins to settle. “False alarm,
I’m good!” I say as I lean back in my seat.

“It grows on you.” Catherine mumbles sarcastically
as she lights a cigarette.

“I think you sirs will find that the end justifies
the means, hehehe…” Evan says.

“Yeah… Yeah I think you’re right… Hahahaha…” I
mumble back.

“It feels like I’m really drunk… But better…” Jack
says.

“You guys up for a little late-night stroll around
the neighborhood?” Evan suggests.

Jack and I nod like zombies. Evan, Greg, and
Catherine do another bump each before we get moving. Greg stumbles a bit before
getting his bearings, laughing as he leans up against a tree.

“Get your sea legs, sailor! All aboard the SS
Kizzle!” Evan laughs.

“I fuckin… You know how like, in Halo, when you
jump, it feels like you’re fuckin’ floating?” I ask in the most retarded tone
possible.

“Haha, dude! I said that exact same thing the first
time I tried it!” Greg says, validating an observation that barely deserved an
awkward silence. Greg’s not a dick like
me and Jack. Come to think of it, most people aren’t…

The ground feels much softer now, and my limbs feel
lighter. I’m functional, but spacey. They were right, it’s a bitch to try to
explain. I might even say it’s a game changer.

“I’ve never really fucked with downers before. Is this
what opiates feel like?” Jack asks the group.

“What, you mean like Oxy?” Catherine replies.

“Perc’s, oxy, whatever, I guess. I’ve never done any
of those ‘cause of all the stories, y’know?” Jack says.

“Oh, yeah, totally. I was never big into them for
the same reasons, but I dabbled a bit in high school. I don’t think you can
really compare them, honestly. They’re both downers, but K is way weirder,
haha.” She explains.

“Plus, it’s like who gets addicted to Ketamine? I
never see it around here, even at school it’s rare.” Evan says.

“Can we chill on the corner for a minute? I gotta
get the hang of walking and smoking at the same time.” Catherine asks.

“Yeah, sure.” Evan replies.

We all sit down on the curb and zone out as Evan
roots through his backpack. Catherine starts playing music from her phone,
Tiesto, Maximal Crazy. It’s been
heavy in my rotation lately because I have awful taste in music. It’s like six minutes
of my favorite part of another song looped over and over again.

“Yo, this is the DJ playing at school in a few
weeks, right?” Evan asks.

“You’ve asked me that like three times this week.
You know we have tickets, right?” Catherine replies.

“You sirs going to that show?” Evan asks Jack and I.

“I didn’t even know he was playing.” I reply.

“Yeah.” Jack says.

“Well you’re welcome to crash at my place if you
want. I don’t know if you’re into that EDM shit but it’ll be a good time either
way. I’m gonna make so much fucking money, dude, I can’t wait.” Evan replies.

“Every time I chill with you guys we end up going
wicked hard.” I say.

“Wait, were you guys trying to lay off the M for a
while or something? I know how that goes, I don’t wanna give it to you if
you’re trying to take a break, y’know?” Evan asks.

“Oh, no, it’s cool man. I was just saying how every
time we chill it’s an adventure.” I reply.

“Yeah, I was thinking about that too. Every time I
get a call from Evan I have to brace myself almost. Like I look over at the
clock and then back at my phone, knowing if I pick it up I’m not gonna be able
to say no. ‘Cause if I say no I’m gonna miss out on some crazy shit that only
happens when you chill with Evan.” Greg says.

“This kid is the same way, dude. I swear it’s like a
fuckin’ sitcom every time I get into his truck.” I say, pointing to Jack.

“Yeah, last time I got into Jack’s truck he was
driving with a bowl in one hand, texting with the other, he had a beer between
his legs, and was driving with his elbows. I was laughing too hard to be
scared, it was weird.” Greg replies.

“Yeah he’s like one of those guys that rides a
unicycle while juggling chainsaws and balancing a ladder on his nose. But when
he sends a text he has to drop everything and have complete silence like he’s
taking the fucking SAT’s.” I joke.

“I don’t need silence, that’s just me telling you to
shut the fuck up. But you’re retarded and can’t take a hint so you just keep
going. And you left half the SAT blank you fuckin’ idiot. Tell ‘em about how
you bought Concerta from one of our friends because you thought it’d make you
smart.” Jack says.

“First of all, that was the ACT’s, which don’t even
count. I left the science section blank because I’m badass and cool, same
reason I was on drugs when I did it.” I reply.

“You paid for Concerta? That sucks, dude! They can’t
even give that shit away at my school.” Greg says.

“I don’t know why I thought it would help, half our
lunch table was prescribed it and they were all retarded like Jack.” I reply.

“You know he took two years to pass algebra one?”
Jack says.

“It was three, actually. I have a learning
disability too, y’know. You should be more compassionate.” I reply.

“Wait do you really have like…” Greg begins, not
wanting to offend me.

“Oh yeah dude, I’m dumb as shit. That’s the clinical
term for learning disability, but I’m not a teacher or Jack’s mother so I just
call it what it is.” I reply.

“Well, you’re half right…” Jack says.

“If Jack was better at school he’d be one of those
potheads that think depression and ADD don’t exist. Can’t you picture him on
Joe Rogan like ‘Hey maaaannnn, it’s natural for kids not to give a shit about
school, it’s all big pharma maaaan, they put fluoride in your water to make you
retarded but if you smoke weed you won’t even notice.’” I say in my half-assed
Jack impression.

“Keep going Harry, come on, run it into the ground
until everyone’s uncomfortable. You’re on a roll, fuck it up, you can do it! You
make me wanna k-hole just to get away from your stupid bullshit.” Jack replies.

“Whatever, faggot!” I say, putting the final nail in
the coffin and proving once and for all that my razor-sharp wit is unmatched in
verbal fisticuffs. Evan is caught off guard by my stunning ignorance and nearly
wipes out his assortment of powdered narcotics with his laughter.

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m
sorry, I didn’t mean it like faggot I
meant like, y’know, the Louis CK bit where he doesn’t throw away my drugs
please?” I say jokingly but not really. Evan has to put the CD down and collect
himself. Where the fuck was this me when
I was sperging out in the basement earlier?

“Oooohhhh fuck…
Oh, fuck. Ok!” I say as the K and Molly synergize beautifully in my head. They
play so perfectly together, yin and yang. It’s like I’m rolling in space and I
don’t really give a shit because I’m just so fucking happy. That’s all I got. Holy fuck stretching feels really good.

We go back to Keith’s house and pile into Greg’s car
to smoke weed until one of us coughs up blood and/or loses consciousness. More
lines are passed around, millions of brain cells are killed, and no good points
are made by anyone. But it’s OK man,
‘cause like, we’re rolling!

“You guys wanna do some coke raps?! Let’s get some
coke freestyles going, c’mon…” Evan says as he chops lines on an old leather
book he took from Keith’s living room. It’s 2 AM and we’re sitting around a
table on Keith’s back deck smoking weed and deviating our septums. I forget how
Cocaine entered the discussion, since none of us have any and most of us
haven’t even tried it yet. But that doesn’t stop Evan from laying down a beat
with his hands and becoming a rapper before our very eyes.

“Cruisin’ down the street, lookin’ for that yay… Yo,
it makes me cray!!” He spits with the confidence of a master composer that’s
just finished his masterpiece. Everyone is too much of a pussy to step to him
after he relinquishes the mic, but I strongly consider it, and I don’t even
rap.

“He’s right, I do get that a lot, but I honestly don’t
see it, haha…” Evan replies.

“The only thing holding you back is that you have a
soul. You get rid of that and get used to lying you could be the fucking president,
dude.” I argue.

“That’s exactly I’d never do it, though!” Evan
laughs.

“Can you just humor me and say some politician shit?
Then we can see how believable you are.” I ask.

“YEAH EVAN CAN YOU JUST LIKE, DO SOME PRESIDENT
STUFF FOR ME FOR MY ENTERTAINMENT?! I DUNNO WHAT THE FUCK IT’S CALLED, YOU
FIGURE IT OUT.” Jack says in a sickeningly accurate impression of me.

“You know what I fuckin’ mean, just say something
like… I have never, ever, said the n-word. Nor do I ever plan to. My fellow
Americans.” It’s the most solid sentence my verbal diarrhea can come up with right
now, but it confuses the rest of the table.

As I suck cat tranquilizer off an expensive piece of
literature through a dirty fast food straw into my nasal cavity where it isn’t
supposed to go, a wonkiness overwhelms me, pushing me back into my chair and
disrupting the connection from my brain to my limbs. If this isn’t the K-Hole
it’s gotta be pretty damn close. Shit’s starting to look weird, everybody’s
starting to sound distant. I stare up at the sky as I slump down in my chair. I
don’t even notice Evan tapping Jack on the shoulder and pointing at me. I slide
myself back up into a seated position, which requires more motor function than
I apparently have. I hope I don’t have to stand up any time soon.

“Yo! Harry! Fuckface! You down there?” Jack yells
from what sounds like thousands of miles away.

Jesus
Christ I am fuuuuucked uuuuppp…. I know I have to
answer him, but I think I forgot how to make words with my face hole. I feel
like a stroke victim learning to speak again as my jaw refuses to cooperate. I
take a deep breath and concentrate.

“What up…” I mumble weakly.

“Eat this.” Jack says, putting something in my hand.
A tab of acid. I slam it into my mouth awkwardly, immediately feeling as if
I’ve jumped the gun. Jack sticks his tongue out and shows me his tab. I weigh
my options silently to myself.

I
don’t think I can get this out of my mouth right now. I could spit it out like
a fuckin’ retard but that’d be disrespectful to Keith’s parents’ home and
Evan’s business. If I could get my hand in my mouth right now I’d still have to
fish around for a tiny piece of paper with fingers that may or may not comply
with my orders…

Catherine checks her phone and I see the time: 3:15
AM. I swallow the tab. No sense in turning back now. All I can do is hope I
regain control of my body before it kicks in. Worst case Ontario, I’ll have
Jack hit me with an emergency bump of Molly to clear my head.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have just given that to him. I
don’t think he realized what kinda commitment he was making when he did that.”
Jack says as if I can’t hear him.

“You guys do this shit all the time though, right?”
Greg asks.

“Haha, yeah…
Yo Harry, you good?” Jack asks me.

I nod slowly like my neck is rusted. I can feel
myself floating back into the real world slowly but surely. I clear my throat
and smack my dry tongue around my dry mouth.

I sigh and laugh to myself as Jack and the rest of
the table start to crack up. I haven’t eaten since hopefully yesterday, yeah,
definitely yesterday. I can already feel the butterflies, I’ll be coming up
soon. The K is beginning to fade more and more quickly, releasing its grip on
my brain in what has to be the smoothest comedown of any drug I’ve ever done.
As the K wears off and the L kicks in, I realize I’m fucking exhausted,
dehydrated, and should be hungry. I rub my eyes in frustration and sigh before
sitting back in my chair. Jack stares at me with a goofy smile that implies
even he might regret this one.

“We’re really doing this, huh?” I ask, chuckling.

“Mhm…” Jack replies.

“Jesus Christ, hahahahaha… Aw, boy. This is gonna be
a weird one. I can fuckin’ feel it.” I say.

“We should get back to your place before I start
peaking.”

“Good call.”

As we rush to McDonald’s and the sky becomes a
hypnotic, shifting, sea of color, Jack hands me the adapter to hook my iPod up
to his stereo. I scowl at it and sigh.

“I might break this fucking thing if it doesn’t
cooperate. Fair warning.” I say to Jack.

“Just try it, if it doesn’t work I got CD’s. I just
need music right now, dude.” Jack replies.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!?!?”

“What? Cop?”

“No, no, no cops, sorry dude. But look at my fucking
iPod!! When the fuck did that happen!?”

The screen on my iPod Touch is smashed, though still
useable to a degree.

“Whoah, what the fuck? When’d you drop it?”

“I don’t remember ever dropping it!”

“Does it still work!?”

“Yeah… Fuck, dude!”

I leave it face down on the dash board and try to
relax. I’ll deal with it once I’m finally off all these drugs. Shit is very much
weird as I open the door to my living room and grab a couple of beers from the
fridge. I sit down on the couch and put on Wanderlust
while I can still read the TV. I sigh and crack my beer open.

I’m Annie R. Payne, founder of Herepets and I’m absolutely in love with pets blogs. Aims to be one of the only dedicated pets news sources . This includes pets in the media, news-worthy events, celebrity pets, and at providing the best solutions to all types of problems that pet owners face on a daily basis. Here pets

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